


Residential

by GraceEliz



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce stresses about sending his babies on school trips, Family, Gen, Long Drabble, School trips, batfam, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-02 03:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19433293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceEliz/pseuds/GraceEliz
Summary: Damian's first school residential was a subject of deep consideration for Bruce. He likes his babies where he can see them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will have a second part at some point.

Damian’s first school residential was a subject of deep consideration. Bruce and Damian weren’t all that close, yet, but Alfred could see the strain it put on Bruce to even consider letting this unexpected son out of his reach. Damian too seemed a tad reluctant to go – for what reason he could only guess. Close quarters with a few dozen other children for two full days would certainly test his lacking social skills, and he’d noticed his father’s habit of ‘dadding’ as some of the younger ones put it. Jason had even dropped in to see Damian, and had cried, and fallen asleep in Bruce’s bed just like he had as a child. Bruce had never had the heart to kick his children out. It had ended more than one prospective relationship.

Tonight, Bruce was convalescing after a bout of the flu with Damian sat on the same sofa. Damian was reading something Arabic to Bruce as part of his ‘daily exercises’ which for Damian meant keeping on top of his grasp of his native language, and for Bruce meant a gentle half hour listening to his (current) youngest read. Occasionally Cassandra sat with them just to listen and enjoy the rare spot of tranquility. Alfred settled into his armchair with his ‘best Butlerdad’ mug – a gift from Jason several years ago – to listen to his latest grandson’s voice curl over the library. It appeared Bruce was still stressed about this upcoming residential.

“Did I do well, father?”

“Of course, as you always do,”answered Bruce affectionately. Damian ducked his head under the gentle praise. “Damian. This trip – do you wish to go?”  
Damian looked surprised by how abrupt Bruce’s voice was. The family could identify that as strain and careful control over his impulse to refuse the outing, but Alfred wondered dubiously if Damian was quite at that point. He didn’t seek Bruce out a great deal. Not like Richard, who even now hung off his father, or Jason who would sit in the same room as Bruce and read for whole days, or Cassandra and Timothy who would drift along behind Bruce all day when the mood stuck. No, Damian valued the time he had, but didn’t appear certain enough of his place to request extra time. Certainly he was too proud – too afraid – to go to Bruce after a nightmare. Alfred watched the silent consideration and thought that the boy would miss his father far more than he expected to if he pushed going on the residential.

“Tt. Do you require me to-”

“No!” burst Bruce. Not even a childhood of training could hide Damian’s surprise. “No, Damian. This trip isn’t about what I need you to do. If you wish, truly, to go then..... I will consider it.” _But I will not enjoy letting you out of sight,_ heard Alfred. _You are my baby, mine and I want to keep you._ The son considered his father as if he was attempting to look straight into Bruce’s soul to find his intentions. Would he insist on going? Would Bruce insist he didn’t? Would this go as so many arguments with Dick did in later years, into shouting and rotting silence?

“B man where are you, you have gotta – oh, hey demon – there’s this book you have gotta discuss with me,” enthused Jason, throwing himself onto Bruce’s favourite chair. He eyed Damian’s rod-straight spine and the air of slight helplessness surrounding Bruce. “What’s up?”

“Damian asked-”

“Father does not want me to go on the residential,” interrupted Damian, “and I think I should go.” Bruce’s jaw was a steel bear-trap. Jason hummed as he looked carefully at Damian.

“Why do you want to go?”

“It would be beneficial for my cover as the heir.”

“Snooty,” snorted Jason, “You can skip it you know. Anyway, B wants you to stay. Dontchya, B?”

“I would much rather you didn’t go,” said Bruce very carefully, “but should you truly wish to go I will take it into consideration.” Jason nodded.

“He means he really does not want you to go out of sight but if you want to go on the school trip he’ll let you provided you stay in touch with him and don’t get into any trouble,” translated Jason, “because Bruce is a worrier and if he can’t see us we’re obviously not safe.”

Alfred considered that a fair assessment.


	2. Parent and Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damian excels at school

Damian had a parent-teacher meeting tonight. Alfred had always gone to Bruce’s, and he was glad that he was kept in the loop of his grandchildrens’ educations throughout the years. He remembered fondly going to Jason’s and hearing the faculty singing his praises. Bruce and he had gone to very few of Tim’s, much to everyone’s regret. There was so much of Tim to be proud of. Cass had never gone to school, Steph didn’t need Bruce for hers, and so Damian would – hopefully, but not likely – be the last child to go through the education system. No more meetings.

It felt like a foolish hope.

It had been established that Damian was not to go on the upcoming school residential upstate. Whilst he would be missing out on the socialisation he clearly needed, Bruce would not go through the stress of sending a child out of his reach. It always set him on edge, leading to “overprotective batdadding” on the field and an increase in Bruce’s insomniac tendencies. Alfred smiled down at the eggs frying on the hob.   
“Alfred, you’re driving us?”

“But of course my boy. I will be sitting in?”

“You better had,” muttered Bruce as Damian marched past, “you better had.” He leant over Alfred’s shoulder. “Are these eggs salted?”

“No, Master Bruce.”

“Hnn.”

Alfred shook his head as he listened to Bruce wander over to the fridge. “I have told you several times,” he began, pausing to out the eggs on the table, “and – dear lord! Bruce Thomas Wayne do not drink from the bottle or so help me...” A wooden spoon waved threateningly in Bruce’s direction had always been the only discipline needed from him. After all, nobody was keen on being assigned to scrubbing every inch of the ballrooms and libraries – it had happened before, it would happen again – until they passed Alfred’s impeccable standards. Bruce put the milk bottle away, and took the washcloth from Alfred to wipe the bottle down. He smiled, taking comfort in the familiarity of breakfast rituals. 

“Ready, Alfred?”

“But of course.”

Damian was positively vibrating on the approach to the school. He’d inherited his father’s genius as well as his mother’s and whilst he’d not admit it Alfred knew that Damian truly valued his father’s approval of his efforts. Bruce would probably be more enthusiastic than Damian was expecting, and that was something Alfred keenly awaited. He parked in the empty space nearest reception and caught Bruce’s eye in the mirror, conveying through narrowed eyes that he would be on his best behaviour. The staircases hadn’t been deep cleaned in some time, after all. 

“Mr Wayne,” smiled the young receptionist “what a pleasure to see you again.”

“At least we’re not here for bad behaviour,” grinned Bruce, “and please, call me Bruce.” He signed his name in the visitors list and passed the book to Alfred as the young man shook his head. 

“I can’t even begin to list the reasons I can’t do that, sir. You taught me advanced chemistry and got me through my grade. You’re my favourite teacher,” insisted the boy – not a boy, if Bruce had taught him chemistry. That must have been a long while ago now, way back before Jason died and Bruce lost himself.   
“Well – thank you,” said Bruce in surprise, “Be sure to get in touch if you think I can help any more.” Damian grabbed Bruce’s wrist and started to pull him out of the entrance down to his teacher’s office. The young man shook his head fondly, handing an envelope to Alfred.   
“They’re looking for a part time tutor and lecturer for chemistry,” he said very quietly, “and I think – it will do him good, maybe.”

Alfred sometimes thought he was done being stumped speechless by the kindness of strangers, but clearly he wasn’t. 

By time he’d reached Bruce and Damian, he’d wiped the tears from his eyes and was ready to interact with the teacher. The teacher opened the door almost before Alfred had reached them – he would have to teach him about appropriate etiquette. 

“Good morning, Damian, Bruce, Mr Pennyworth,” greeted the teacher. Alfred raised his eyebrows. 

“Nobody told me you were Damian’s teacher, Mister Postlethwaite.”

He laughed. “Alfred, Bruce, we’ve known each other since your Bruce was Damian’s age. Call me Kade.”

“I understand what your receptionist said. In his words, I can’t even begin to list the reasons I won’t be doing that,” insisted Bruce. “But I am unfortunately on a schedule this morning, so if we could perhaps dispense with these pleasantries?” Alfred felt entirely justified in the tap he administered for this rudeness. Thankfully Kade didn’t appear bothered by yet another example of Bruce’s untempered abruptness. 

“Damian is a wonderful child to teach.” Kade turned to the boy in discussion with a broad smile, “You deal with the cultural challenges facing you brilliantly. Unfortunately, there are several holes in your knowledge. You’re very cooperative with all our tests, which is very helpful, and we’ve managed to get your scores through-” he paused to shuffle some papers “- and I think with some tutoring you’ll be up to speed in a matter of weeks.”

Alfred glanced at his boys and could see the almost hidden satisfaction at the assessment. “What can we do,” he asked, “to help him along?”

“I recommend that he reads with someone for ten or fifteen minutes a day in English, just to stay on top of his fluency. I know that yours is a very multilingual household and I encourage that, so keep on in whatever language you use at home Damian. Bruce, you’re a chemist, so if you could oversee his sciences tuition?”

“Of course, of course,” agreed Bruce with a smile.  
“I’ll put together a pack today and send it home with Damian.”

When the meeting ended ten minutes later Bruce and Damian looked pleased as chips, to use one of Bruce’s malaphors, and they’d established that Damian would read aloud fifteen minutes a day in the morning as well as reading in Arabic with Bruce. And, perhaps the sweetest of all, Kade had seen the envelope and wished Alfred the best of luck. Not only was Damian settling in but Bruce had been all but offered a job doing what he used to love. Life was truly looking up.


End file.
